The Fourthling
by caterbird
Summary: Set in old Sanctaphrax during the first age of flight, an aspiring dictator plots his takeover. In an attempt to gain the upper hand over his adversaries, he conducts an experiment that will change the Edgeworld forever.
1. Introduction

Far, far away a large spit of rock juts out over a dark emptiness. At the eastern extremity, a rushing torrent deluges into the chasmic void below. On either side of the river are huge stacks of buoyant rocks, growing ever upward as the rocks increase in size. Beyond is a magnificent city of towering spires built solely upon one of these floating rocks.

This is the Edge. The gushing river is the Edgewater. The stacks of buoyant rocks, the Stone Gardens. The city upon the floating rock is Sanctaphrax, newly built in all its glory.

However, among the venerable academics of Sanctaphrax, a faction have become discontented. Their leader, Tegg-tot, a hammerhead goblin guard, has formed a conspiracy to overthrow the government of Sanctaphrax. Underlings from all schools are flooding to his cause and he is becoming ever more powerful.

The Edge, the Stone Gardens, Sanctaphrax. Names on a map, but behind each lies a thousand tales. Tales recorded on barkscrolls and passed on by word of mouth. Tales that even now are being told. What follows is but one of those tales.


	2. Chapter 1: The Viaduct Steps

Tegg-tot fingered the amulet around his neck with an evil grimace. "By Sky," he muttered, "trust them to be late!" As he hid in shadows at the top of the 24th Westside staircase of the Viaduct Steps he cursed his accomplices in the School of Light and Darkness and their aptitude for being late. Sanctaphrax was a dangerous place to plot against your superiors, he mused, there were spies everywhere. And the Viaduct Steps were not the safest place in Sanctaphrax, either. The amulet should keep him safe from prying eyes though. He just wished Ignifuce and Drumb would arrive.

When he finally had the pleasure, and he make sure it was his own personal pleasure, to slit the throat of the Most High Academe of Sanctaphrax he would become High Marshal Tegg-tot. How wonderful that would be. He would no longer have to put up with late informants. Anyone who displeased him would be summarily executed. But in the mean time he still needed the services of the Ignifuce and Drumb. Ignifuce was a ghostwaif, rare in Sanctaphrax, but invaluable as a spy. The waif kept him informed about anything he wished to know by reading the minds of the various creatures that inhabited Sanctaphrax. Drumb was a little slow, but no matter, he was a valuable henchman. Anyone who crossed Tegg-tot got on bad terms with Drumb, and nobody survived a fight with a cloddertrog like Drumb. _Where were they?!_

 _Right here, General_ sounded a menacing whisper in his head. He spun around and found Ignifuce staring at him across the staircase. _Come here!_ he thought.

 _We must not talk here, General._ Ignifuce replied inside his head. _You are being watched. I will see you at midnight under the largest rock in the Stone Gardens._ As the waif's whispered thought finished, he melted back into the crowd on the steps.

Tegg-tot growled to himself, the waif must have something important to say if he was unwilling to speak in the open.

Tegg-tot hobbled up the steps of the Sanctaphrax armoury. He was late. If he was caught out after curfew he'd be flogged and put on latrine duty for a week. And that wouldn't do, after all, he had to meet Ignifuce tonight.

He peered furtively around the ornately carved blackwood doors and swore silently. There were five heavily armed hammerhead guards on duty. He would have to climb the woodivy vine that run up the brickwork wall of the armoury barracks. He was cautiously moving away from the doors when a gruff voice behind him made him jump. "Out after curfew again, are we Tegg-tot?" He spun around to find himself facing a towering cloddertrog guard-sergeant. Tegg-tot knew Sergeant Grope, he was one of the cruelest bullies in the Sanctaphrax guard. There would be no escaping now.

Sergeant Grope grabbed Tegg-tot by the collar of his battle-jacket and marched him inside. As they went past the guards in armoury hall Tegg-tot heard them sniggering. "Got him in the end then, Grope!" grinned one. Sergeant Grope glared at him and the guard snapped to a salute. "Did I hear you say something by any chance?" growled Grope.

"N...Nothing sir, nothing at all!" muttered the trembling hammerhead guard.

"Good!" sneered Grope and continued marching Tegg-tot toward the sumpwood staircase in the corner of the hall.

Upstairs, Sergeant Grope marched Tegg-tot into a pitifully tiny containment cell and locked the barred ironwood door. "Sweet dreams, Tegg-tot." he sneered, "I've got some plans for you. The whole Sanctaphrax guard will see what happens when a mere soldier defies Sergeant Grope."

As Grope's terrible laughter faded away, Tegg-tot groaned. He wished for the day when he and his rebels would reveal their true colours. He could already see the look of abject surprise and terror on Sergeant Grope's face as he ran him through with his curved sword. It would be a bloody day, but one to remember. He would be High Marshal Tegg-tot, master of Sanctaphrax. He would then march upon Undertown, that miserable place of factories and snivelling, self-centered businessmen. How he detested it, but it would be his too. He would be free to enslave every inhabitant of the vile place and destroy those who had rejected his genius.


	3. Chapter 2: The Skydemon

The Edgewater shimmered with the light of the rising moon. The same dim light bathed an empty courtyard beneath the Sanctaphrax armoury. A figure slid slowly down the woodivy vine on western wall of the armoury and disappeared into the shadows at base of the building. A moment later, Tegg-tot was making his way cautiously through the back alleys of Sanctaphrax. As he approached the Eastern Landing, Tegg-tot paused to look behind him. He must not be followed. If Ignifuce had something important to say, he must be the only one to hear it, no eavesdroppers would be permitted.

The hanging baskets were deserted, the motley assortment of basketpullers having gone home hours before. The bell in the Great Hall at the centre of Sanctaphrax announced eleven hours. Tegg-tot reached out and grabbed one of the baskets by its ironwood frame and swung himself into the peddling-seat.

It was hard work peddling the hanging basket and Tegg-tot was sweating under his tooled leather breastplate before he had descended more than a hundred strides. He had just reached the base of the Sanctaphrax rock when he heard sounds from the basket below him. Disturbing sounds, sounds of something chewing and ironwood bars splintering. It could only be one thing. A skydemon. Smaller cousins of the terrible edgewraiths that he knew inhabited the sky below the edgecliff, skydemons were small creatures with white, leathery skin and phenomenally powerful jaws. Occasionally one would find its way in from open-sky and hang around Sanctaphrax causing enormous damage for its size. Often one of these rouge skydemons would be found sleeping inside a hanging basket. Just his luck to choose the same basket. He'd obviously disturbed it and now it was angry. The amulet wouldn't keep him safe this time.

Tegg-tot pulled upwards on the leadwood brake-handle at his side and the basket ceased its slow descent. As he drew his curved sword, a guttural screech came from below him. The skydemon was truly aroused now. Suddenly it launched itself out of the basket and into Tegg-tot's view. It was an exceptionally large specimen and it was obviously hungry. Its white leathery skin was stretched tight over a bony skeleton with prominent ribs. Tegg-tot could see every bump and wart on the vile creature's skin as it approached him. Its broad mouth was open to reveal row upon row of sharply pointed teeth.

Abruptly, the vision broke and Tegg-tot swung his sword toward the oncoming monster. The skydemon shrieked and went into a steep dive. Tegg-tot knew that if it came up under him the hanging basket would offer no protection from its formidable jaws. There was only one choice. It was dangerous, but he might survive, which couldn't be said of trying to fight the skydemon.

Tegg-tot swung himself back into the peddling-seat and released the brake-handle, throwing the hanging basket into freefall. The skydemon let a out another shriek and gave chase to its escaping prey. On top of the hanging basket, Tegg-tot was terrified, Undertown was flying up to meet him and the skydemon was close behind. At the last moment possible he jerked upward on the brake-handle to stop his basket colliding with the ground. The sudden stop threw him off the basket and into a nearby mud pool.

From his position half submerged in the mud, Tegg-tot watched as the skydemon came rocketing down from above. It took a massive bite out of the basket, but realizing that its prey was no longer there, it flew off into Open Sky, screaming its frustration. Tegg-tot looked at the wrecked remains of the hanging basket and breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn't been inside it when the skydemon made its final attack. However, now was not the time to worry about skydemons, he had important business with Ignifuce in the Stone Gardens.


	4. Chapter 3: The Stone Gardens

As he listened to the low creaks and rumbles of the Stone Gardens, Ignifuce felt increasingly anxious. Tegg-tot should have arrived an hour ago. Now, the white ravens were beginning to get suspicious. He could see them circling overhead with their large, sharp beaks and gleaming eyes. If he loitered here much longer they would surely try tearing him to pieces. Should he wait for that miserable hammerhead or preserve his own safety? If he left now and Tegg-tot came after he was gone, his life wasn't worth an Undertown quarter. However, the longer he stayed here, the more likely he was to be attacked by the ravens. "What had happened to Tegg-tot?" he wondered. The dirty old codger didn't know what was coming for him. He, Ignifuce, was really the one they should all be afraid of. He sniggered to himself. He had it all planned out. On the day of Tegg-tot's glorious revolution, it would be he, Ignifuce, that would rise to the top. Tegg-tot was too trusting, it would be just too easy to stab him in the back as he celebrated his new empire. Ha! He, Ignifuce, would found a new order, The League of Vulpoons he would call it. The terrible, toothed birds were the perfect embodiment of his evil plans. But wait, he heard something. Ah, Tegg-tot was finally here.

As Tegg-tot approached the stack of floating rocks he could hear icy whispers flitting through his head. He knew Ignifuce was there and was probably being careless with his thoughts, but he couldn't understand anything the waif was thinking, it all went past him too quickly. He slowed to mudsnail creep. Suddenly he tripped on a piece of loose debris and the waif's thoughts abruptly stopped. Tegg-tot picked himself up, disappointed, and continued making his way towards Ignifuce.

 _Greetings, General_ he heard Ignifuce whisper.

 _What is your message?_ he replied without speaking.

 _The Professors of Light and Darkness have apprehended one of your spies in the Loftus Observatory. They are preparing to root out your followers from every school in Sanctaphrax. However, I have discovered something else that may be of interest to you, General._

Tegg-tot was shocked. His plot was in danger of falling to pieces. But Ignifuce had intrigued him. _What?_

Ignifuce's menacing whisper sounded again inside Tegg-tot's head, _Deep inside the Sanctaphrax rock is an Ancient Laboratory. A thousand years ago, before Sanctaphrax was built, the first academics conducted strange experiments there. It was shut up for no visible reason soon after the conclusion of their first experiments. If you, General, could harness the power of this laboratory, the whole Edgeworld would surely be at your mercy..._


	5. Chapter 4: The Great Seal of Office

**i. The Stonecomb**

The stonecomb of the great Sanctaphrax Rock hummed eerily. Every now and then, strange, frightening noises would issue forth from the vast network of interconnected chambers that made up the stonecomb. A lone hammerhead goblin walked cautiously down one of the narrow paths that weaved through the stonecomb. He was fighting the urge to run and escape whatever was following him, he knew if he ran he would probably lose his way and end up prey to whatever it was that seemed to be hiding down here. He'd already passed the emaciated remains several hapless creatures who had ventured down here and been unable find their way out again. They hadn't starved either, by the looks of them. Something had sucked the life out of them. Several were merely skeletons, but those that still had flesh, their skin was pulled tight over their bones, as if everything inside had been slowly drawn out and consumed. He didn't want to think about what might have done something so terrible, and especially not consider that it might be waiting to prey on him too.

Before him stood a large wooden door with an ornately carved plaque in the centre. Tegg-tot recognized it as the Great Seal of Office, the same design as the recently laid Quadrangle Mosaic. Except here the design was indented into the plaque, creating a depression that looked as if it would fit the Great Seal of Office perfectly. Tegg-tot pushed hard at the door, but it wouldn't open. There wasn't any kind of handle or knocker with which to open it, either. It was a puzzle, but Tegg-tot wasn't going to be defeated. He kicked hard at the door with right boot, but it wouldn't budge at all. He turned and put all the force he could muster into the door through his shoulders. As he leant against the door, Tegg-tot felt the leadwood plaque move slightly. At last, something was giving. He tried hitting the plaque, twisting it and sliding it, all to no avail. No matter what he tried the plaque wouldn't move again, much less let him past the door. Baffled and tired from his exertions, Tegg-tot realized something was stopping the plaque from moving. He needed a key. He examined the door but could find no keyhole, the door was a single solid piece with no decoration other than the leadwood plaque. Suddenly he saw the answer, the plaque was shaped like the Great Seal of Office. If he had the Great Seal of Office, the plaque would surely release the door and allow him to enter the Ancient Laboratory. Tegg-tot turned and strode back the way he had come. The Great Seal of Office could easily be arranged.

 **ii. Undertown**

The grey trog blacksmith felt uneasy. Two hours ago a dangerous looking hammerhead had entered his shop and offered him two thousand gold pieces to make an exact replica of the Great Seal of Office with no questions asked. Of course, he'd accepted instantly, not that he'd had much choice in the matter. The hammerhead had already been fingering the long serrated sword at his side. Now, the blacksmith felt less certain about the job, there was something fishy about the whole affair. But money was money and he'd agreed to do it. He couldn't back out now, or he'd lose his livelihood and probably his life too, at that. He reckoned now that the hammerhead had probably been that notorious thug, Tegg-tot, who the Most High Academe was trying to capture. He hammered out the disc and its eleven points with expert strokes of his hammer. As the medallion took shape, he switched to using an ironwood shapingwedge to form the bolts of jagged lightning that radiated from its centre. It was nearly finished, but time was running short. Next, he must stain it. The blacksmith heated up several powdered pigments until they glowed hot and began to colour the medallion. Rubbing the hot pigments in, a little at a time, with a damp cloth he slowly saw the colours emerge. Vivid gold for central sun and the lightning bolts. The background was stained a regal purple by an expensive pigment made from lullabee grubs. He stained the reverse of the medallion a dull yellow like that of unpolished gold. Finally, he rubbed it over gently with woodbee wax to give it a shiny finish and hung it on a chain. It was perfect, a masterpiece.

 **iii. The Palace of Lights**

The Most High Academe of Sanctaphrax woke up in a cold sweat. In the darkness of his sleeping chamber he could still feel the terror of his nightmare. That murderous rebel, Tegg-tot, had somehow made his way past the secure doors of the Palace of Lights. He had entered his sleeping chamber and, gloating, stolen the Great Seal of Office from around his neck. His dream had lasted just long enough for him to feel Tegg-tot's knife at his throat. He reached for the Great Seal of Office hung around his neck, its presence helped to bring back his sense of security. But as he held it something still felt wrong, though he couldn't work out what it was. The more he thought about it, the more the medallion felt wrong. It was then that he noticed the cold draught coming in the window. How careless of him, he must have forgotten to close it before turning in for the night. He got out of bed and went to close the window that was releasing the cold draught. As he walked across his chamber, he noticed several items that had been knocked over. He didn't remember doing that. When he got to the offending window, he realized it wasn't open, someone or something had broken it. At the same moment he recognized the problem with the medallion around his neck, it was much too light. Celestron, a gnokgoblin, Most High Academe of Sanctaphrax, screamed in terror, someone had been in his sleeping chamber.


	6. Chapter 5: Cloddum

The grey trog blacksmith looked around cautiously. He wasn't being followed, which was just as well. He'd received two thousand gold pieces, as promised, for the fake medallion. But what he now knew about his customer was worth more. He smiled to himself. It had been wise, he realized, to hire the services of a passing waif. He'd hidden the waif in a tool cupboard and when the hammerhead had returned, the waif had read his thoughts. He had, indeed, been Tegg-tot, and he'd hatched an evil plan. A very evil one, indeed. Now, the blacksmith was on his way to inform the Most High Academe, but only if he'd pay. Oh, yes, what he knew was worth another two thousand gold pieces at least.

As he reached the doors of the Palace of Lights, he checked behind him again. If Tegg-tot's spies saw him going here, he was as good as dead. There was nobody in sight. He approached the great double doors at the front of the palace and knocked. One door opened a little and he could see a hammerhead guard behind it. "Who wishes to enter the Palace of Lights, the house of the Most High Academe?" queried the guard in a ritual tone.

"Cloddum, a grey trog blacksmith of Undertown with an important message for the Most High Academe." he replied.

The guard snorted. "Why should the Most High Academe want to see the likes of you?"

"My message concerns his personal safety and that rouge, Tegg-tot. But he will have to pay if he requires my information."

The guard sighed, "What is your price?" he asked.

"Three thousand gold pieces."

The guard abruptly closed the door and could be heard tramping off down the long hallway beyond. A while later he returned. "The Most High Academe detests the likes of you who are willing to turn others over for money, but your message intrigued him. He will see you. You may enter."

The guard unbolted the door, allowing Cloddum to enter. As he walked inside, Cloddum was astonished by the beautiful paintings and exquisite sculptures that bedecked the walls around him. The Most High Academe surely had the money then, to pay him for his information. But if not, well, he could always refuse to speak.

The guard led him down the long hallway into an airy chamber beyond. The Most High Academe sat at a table in the centre of the room. Celestron gestured for Cloddum to take a seat on the opposite side of the table and placed a large money bag before him. "Now, speak!" he said.

* * *

In the kitchen of the Palace of Lights, the hammerhead goblin door-guard silently opened the back door of the palace and glanced furtively into the alley beyond. There was no one around. He wrapped his coat tightly around himself and, closing the door behind him, stepped out into the dark alley. He must find Tegg-tot quickly.

As Ignifuce emerged from the shadows at the top of the 24th Westside staircase of the Viaduct Steps, Tegg-tot was waiting for him. He'd just received a report from his spy in the Palace of Lights. That miserable grey trog blacksmith had gone and dobbed him in to the Most High Academe for three thousand gold pieces. He ceased his musings and turned to Ignifuce.

 _Remember your colleague in the School of Potions and Poisons?_

 _Yes, General?_ Ignifuce replied.

 _Bring him here to me, I have a little job for him._

* * *

In the Palace of Lights, Cloddum was just about to finish his story.

"And Tegg-tot wishes to use your Great Seal of Office to open the Ancient..."

The window behind him opened a crack. _Phut._ A blowpipe dart dipped in deadly blackroot oil embedded itself in his neck and he slumped forwards over the money bag. He was dead within seconds. Before the Most High Academe could react, the window closed and the waif assassin had disappeared into the shadows of the alley beneath.

"The Ancient...The Ancient what?" Celestron wondered. It was most probably important.


	7. Chapter 6: The Lufwood Wagon

The streets of Undertown thronged with noisy market-goers. Hefty lugtrolls and cloddertrogs haggled for the best deal on kegs of tripweed beer while smaller goblins bartered with shryke traders for exotic Deepwoods merchandise. Gabtroll apothecaresses informed passers-by about the healing properties of their remedies while slaughterers shouted their wares to all who would hear. "Best bloodoak amulets available here," shouted one, "guaranteed to protect you against all spirits in the Deepwoods."

"He's a liar!" another shouted overtop, "Mine are infused with essence of hyleberry. Even the Twilight Woods are safe when you're wearing one of these. Buy here!"

"Hoverworm tinctures, hoverworm tinctures!" called a high voice from the corner of the market. "Salves and ointments available for all ailments."

At the center of the market, a large moving rope with vicious hooks on it showed where the shrykes had set up their mobile slave market.

"Number 5. Good looking low-belly, seasoned to hard work, suitable as a farm labourer." shrieked the auctioneer on the nearby platform. Almost immediately, a bid was placed for thirty gold pieces. A gnokgoblin academic in the front row of bidders topped it at fifty. Soon a bidding war started, but it stopped quickly when a large, heavily-armed hammerhead bid a hundred and twenty. The bidders were starting to get angry. The hammerhead had won the last five auctions with expensive bids. Now, the shrykes, seeing a useful customer and feeling the increased demand had begun to raise the starting bid of the auctions such that the local bidders had no chance to make their offer.

As he won each auction, the hammerhead bundled his new slave into a dark lufwood wagon drawn by four hammelhorns. Inside the wagon were long rows of benches with shackles. Already, a gnokgoblin, a slaughterer and a young banderbear were chained up inside amongst several other goblins.

As he was pushed into wagon, the low-belly recognized two goblins, a pink-eye and a gyle, he'd traveled with in the slave train. They were slumped dejectedly on a bench near the front of the wagon with their feet chained. The cloddertrog wagon driver shoved him roughly onto the bench beside them and shackled his feet to the floor. Besides the two he was sitting beside, the low-belly recognized several other occupants of the wagon, including the slaughterer and the half-starved flathead chained in the corner.

"You too, Grome?" asked the slaughterer with a sigh.

"Yeah, me too. Well whatever happens we're in this together, Haggis." he replied.

As the cloddertrog slammed the large double doors at the back of the wagon, its occupants were plunged into darkness. Soon they were joined by a woodtroll and a long-hair goblin. Then a shryke-mate and a gabtroll. With each new addition to the wagon, the atmosphere inside got worse. There were no air vents and none of them had washed for several days. Every one of them was hungry, tired and sore. Soon, quarrels broke out. The long-hair began swearing at the gyle goblin who had managed to drift off and had started snoring. The flathead poured abuse at the long-hair and the remaining occupants quickly took sides in the fight. Annoyed, the banderbear began lashing out in all directions to the distress of those chained around him. The fight was in full swing.

Too preoccupied, none of them felt the wagon begin to lurch and roll until it hit a pothole in the road, throwing them all off the benches flat onto their faces. Casting angry glances at each other, the occupants of the wagon picked themselves up and held tightly to the benches until the wagon came to a halt.

Those inside the wagon that bothered to listen heard the hammerhead giving muffled orders in an impatient tone. After a while there was silence. Then, suddenly, the whole wagon seemed to lift off the ground into midair. The creaking of a winch treadmill could be heard outside, but it seemed to be receding away below them. The occupants of the wagon looked at each other in terror, quarrels forgotten. Whatever was happening to them, they knew it couldn't be good.


	8. Chapter 7: The Ancient Laboratory

It was wonderful, thought Tegg-tot. Everything was going to plan. The laboratory was ready for his great experiment and he had a wagon full of creatures at his disposal. His mind drifted back to when he'd first entered the laboratory. It had been in a terrible state of disrepair. Cracked bottles and pipes everywhere. Taps rusted, valves broken, levers snapped off. Parts looked as if they had been deliberately smashed and there had been several patches of long-dried blood staining the floor. It had taken a long time, but he'd cleaned it up.

He'd used his influence amount the high and mighty of Undertown to secure the necessary slave labour, several hefty lugtrolls. He'd had their tongues cut out to ensure silence, of course. A rather painful procedure it was, but a necessary precaution at all events, he reflected. Well, they'd served him well. The laboratory was sparkling clean and beautifully repaired. A work to be proud of. It had taken his lugtrolls several months to do the job. They had worked in two shifts, scrubbing, molding, and gluing, day and night. New pipes had been made with all their delicate tributary ducts and valves. Enormous new bell jars had been constructed to replace those lying smashed on the floor and the whole system had been reconnected into its complicated twisting, turning networks, all flowing into the gigantic central duct. The floor had been scrubbed until all traces of blood were gone. The central control levers had been repaired, and polished until they shone. Basket loads of chipped, cracked and broken glasswork had been cast off the platform at the tunnel entrance into the Edgewater below. The laboratory looked perfect, just waiting to be used. It wouldn't be long now, victory was within his grasp.

Tegg-tot lowered his hanging basket slowly towards the tiny rock platform jutting outwards from the great floating rock. He maneuvered carefully around the giant beam of ironwood protruding from above the tunnel. A heavy rope was slowly moving through a single pulley fixed on the end of the beam, hauling a large lufwood box up from Undertown below. His specimens were on their way.

As the basket touched down on the platform with a gentle bump, Tegg-tot climbed out and peered into the tunnel. Leaving Ignifuce to oversee the work of the winch treadmill, Tegg-tot had left Undertown and returned to prepare the laboratory. The tunnel seemed clear. He'd begun to be more cautious since one of his lugtrolls had wandered off and been found lying in the main tunnel with his skin stretched tight over his dead skeleton. He couldn't afford to let that happen to him. Not now. He smiled evilly to himself. The creature, what ever it was, had been some use to him. It had shown a taste for lugtroll blood, so once he was done with them he'd disposed of them most conveniently. Left chained hand and foot in the main tunnel, they had never stood a chance. Most convenient, but you couldn't let the word get out. It had been too risky to let them go.

But now, more important things needed his attention. He turned on his heel and strode off down the tunnel. When he reached the end, he pulled the stolen the Great Seal of Office from beneath his coat and open the door to the laboratory. Inside. everything was meticulously prepared. The great bell jars along one wall stood empty, ready for their occupants. Every valve and dial had been calibrated and every seal checked. The levers of the central control station were oiled and its gauges tested. His notes and calculations lay spread out on a table before him. All was ready.

As he resealed the laboratory, Tegg-tot felt a warm glow within him, he had done it. He was soon to be the most powerful individual in Sanctaphrax. If his calculations were correct, when he channeled the life energy of each of the various creatures he had collected into a single glister, a powerful being would be created, bound to him in servitude. He had but to pull a lever. Still, the wagon must be arriving soon. He needed to be there when it did. Ignifuce would also be there to witness his great experiment. He would be all powerful.

As he emerged from the tunnel, he saw the top of the lufwood wagon rise above the level of the platform. His guests were here.


End file.
